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Poetry

In The Interim

In the interim, I will be less.

I will be quieter, complacent, and empty.

I will take long baths locked behind a door

in silence.

In the interim, I will be smaller.

I will fit myself inside of a chair.

I will gather myself on a couch

wrapped in a quilt

in a ball

smaller and smaller.

I will wander through hallways unseen.

I will sleep in dark corners.

It isn’t enough to be something,

to fill up days with form and presence.

It isn’t enough to be a ghost.

I will be less than a ghost,

less than a shadow.

I will be a quiet, unseen, forgotten poltergeist

taking baths behind locked doors in darkness

and candlelight.

Not a sound.

I will fill up no space,

take up no time,

speak no words.

I will be nothing,

a no one,

a not somebody.

In the interim, I will disappear

and never be accounted for.

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by Tracy Barbour

She/They/Queer/BIPOC
Certified Trauma Professional & Life and Relationship Coach & Writer.
Supporting humxns for survival, safety, growth, and restoration.


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